Why the Caged Bird Sings
by Princess LaLaBlue
Summary: Smaug, for all his efforts, could not sleep. He then gets the idea of acquiring a fair voiced maiden to soothe him. Kidnapped for this purpose, a traveling minstrel must use her music skills and her new talent for flattering dragons if she wishes to see another morning. But as this twist of fate continues to contort the story we know, what will become of all involved?
1. Restless

Chapter 1; Restless:

This story I dreamed up long before The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, came out. Honestly, it came to me when I first watched the trailer for it. Laziness and school kept me from writing it, but a freed up summer and having read some very wonderful OC/Smaug fics has put me in the mood to test my mettle in this side of fanfiction.

Keep in mind that I am twisting the events of the movie (or maybe will have it be preluding to the events of the movie...) as well as the characters' roles in this world I am turning around for my enjoyment. Explanations will be offered if questions arise, so please, enjoy…

I own nothing but my contorted plot and my OC.

* * *

Of cold earth, carved immaculate was its workings. Of bitter winds, and eternal manifestation.

The mountain gave no allusion of security to the valleys far below it, only sinister ominous. Not one visage of green could come near the ring of dark scorched stone that surrounded the highland, giving decay its own kingdom under the snow of approaching winter. Sharp cliff faces and unsalable paths snaked their way over the unyielding peak, cloaking bleak misery over the admirable landscape it once had been under its' pervious denizens.

But buried, deep, the hallowed halls of the still awe-inspiring mountain shone with the same beauty the dwarves carved it with. Lofty arches stretched high, cold stone worn so smooth that marble could be shamed. Winding halls and soaring bridges of stone and metal alike wound through, under, and above made the citadel that the ageless miners had built for themselves. But though the halls themselves were ever as grand, the people of the mountain's presence was little more than another memory for this stone palace. Dust was their skeletons, and moaning winds were their dying whispers. Swords and shields rusted where they lay, useless in being able to protect their masters, now long dead. Tapestries hailing their way of life and dead kings collected no admirers for their fraying beauty save for dust and starved mice.

But the once magnificence of Erebor was not what trained curious eyes to the mountain these days. Of all the whisperings of the place, it all pertained to what only lay inside it still, after all this time.

The warm light of gold, they said, fills those halls, the dwarves having mined it themselves. Precious stones, locked in their crystalline beauty, lay strewn about like common pebbles. To the dwarves that had mined them, there was nothing common about the treasure that once was theirs. No gift from the earth's deep was mundane, especially when their skills turned metal into blinding crowns, coal into light shattering diamonds, all laying there still. Cascades of treasure even now supported pillars of stone that made up the colossal vault, weaving into every crevasse till the unclaimed hoard spread itself like the weighed down silk of a spider's web.

Unclaimed. Abandoned. That's what people dreamed the treasure to be, but they knew it to be untrue. One can dream of the coins, of the gilded swords encrusted with jewels, but only dream. And even that much could be dangerous. For this hoard, this alcove of metals and ornaments, was in fact claimed and jealously guarded.

Stirring, a bed of coins chimed their intonation as a figure rose from beneath them. Silvers fell away like rain, and a fearsome head stretched itself towards the high arches above.

And there he was.

Smaug, master of these halls now. A vast red-golden dragon was he, wisps of smoke rising from his jowls as he sucked in a reverberating breath of the stale air of his keep. The ruddy light of his costly bed reflected the dark shine of the powerful beast's scales. His long pale belly had become crusted with the gems and fragments of gold from his years lying within his own treasures, and only added to the great and terrible opulence he was.

His wings were folded like an immeasurable bat, and if he unfurled them, they would fill the hall. Tipped, piercing claws like blades uncurled themselves, raking through the metal beneath them like bits of grain as the dragon stretched himself. Splitting the decayed air about him with a rhythmic rushing, his tail twitched from side to side, making it obvious to even those who would be left utterly dumb struck at the sight of such terror to know that the beast of red and gold was irate.

But why should he be?

Meticulous knowledge of every coin, cup, and polished necklace that made up Smaug's claim assured him that not one was missing from him. His coat of scales shone out like mithril could never hope to, and his teeth remained sharp jags that could cut down any beast or kingdom. No thieves had dared to bother him in a many a year, though Smaug almost wished a heart foolish enough to come into his mountain and try to steal from his hoard. The hunt for a thief, once trivial and anger spired, now seemed to be an amusing game to distract himself.

And why should such things once bothersome now become an aspect to be hoped for by Smaug? Did his lust for fire ache to burn away those undeserving to witness his hoard? Was it tediousness of counting his treasures, of accounting for every piece of silver. For every pearl?

No, of that it could never be. It was something far more meager than Smaug cared to admit that had escaped him. Here, in his own halls.

Sleep.

Dragons had few pleasures, and with Smaug, those pleasures were usually satisfied. A claimed bed of desired metals was of his most chiefest needs, and though always welcoming for more, Smaug knew his claim was sufficient for a high being such as him. Food was next, but that was easy to find and easier to kill. And then there was sleep.

This last pleasure had been denied Smaug for some months now.

With dragons, every emotion became an obsession. Nothing about them was small, not even their moods. And sleep's stay from him inspired a mood of blackest origin. The more he desired it, the harder he closed his scaled eyes, and the more easily slumber guided him right back into stagnant wakefulness.

Smaug was not one to be deprived of his cravings, and he was incapable of swallowing down dissatisfaction.

Of being denied, there was no blindness on how such a thing affected him. But worse, far worse, was that the reason for such was lost. Not in his centuries did Smaug once use any exertion in finding sweet slumber, even before taking for his this hoard he had now. But here, here he was.

Stirring, awake, restless.

This would not do.

"Alfrid!" Orotund, Smaug's voice gutturally roared out, its unwarranted cruelty to delicate ears undying even as it faded out into an echo in the vast halls. Eyes narrowing, the dragon felt a snarl curl his lips, and mauled the bed of metal beneath him with a swipe of his talons.

"You miserable worm! Come!"

Of the greater realms of creaturedom a dragon may be, patience was marketedly unmentioned in the songs written of them. Though one of the eldest, and certainly of the most powerful of his kind, this was true of Smaug as well. Finally though, before the cut of anger that was building in him became any worse than it already was, hurried steps finally made their presence known by their timid resonance of the hall they traveled down.

Smaug's heightened senses perfectly timed when his servant would finally appear before him, breathless from running to heed his master's call. The man did not disappoint.

"You bellowed my master?" The man said, voice wavering from the run and from natural cowardice.

He was a grotesque sort of being, Smaug decided, even for a human. Having the air of a sniveling toad and all the charm of a dead rat. Smaug was able to recall that when he stole this man away from the town of fishmongers below his mountain, that he was a counselor for the pitiful settlement. That did not matter to the dragon though, nothing but the pitiful human's unwavering loyalty for fear of his flesh was noteworthy to Smaug.

Not uncommon of his kind, dragons would every couple of centuries employ some sort of servant, though more often than not it was a dwarf rather than a human. Though typical for dragons to make war on the dwarves and plundering their works, the creatures were seen to have other uses. Their ways with metal was seen as charming to some dragons, and they knew of ways to keep one's scales gleaming like the jewels they so gluttonously mined.

Smaug could not stand such creatures though, evidence in their rusting bones proved of his great distaste for their race. They were nothing more than greedy half-men with feign loyalties to their people when their hearts truly only beat for the precious metals Smaug now possessed.

Humans, though just as predictable cowards as dwarves, at the very least held more fear for their bones and the flesh upon it. They did not live long, both in life and in keeping good faith with their master, and so needed constant replacing. But Smaug found that an easy task and an even easier arrangement to keep. Polish his scales, serve him food from the stores he kept, and do not assault his senses with the stench of man, and he in turn would not devour that mortal shell of a body. And as of yet, none of his servants had ever to fail him and lived to disappoint a second time.

"Rest and dreams elude me." Smaug finally spoke to his awaiting servant. Such admittance irked Smaug, and his spiked tail crashed down near his reclined form, coins roll away like a wave of sand in wake of his tremor.

"Bring me something to eat." The dragon decided. Perhaps having one of the stags he had recently hunted to fill his stores would help settle his restlessness. Though hunger was not panging him, it was all the dragon could think to settle himself with for the moment. He would eat, and then he would try once more to rest. If it refused to come to him this time, he knew other solutions would have to be considered.

"If I may be so bold, oh Smaug the Splendor, sleep has left you for some time now, hasn't it?" Alfrid, head bowed and eyes hidden beneath his caterpillar of a brow, inquired in his slime ridden voice.

"My, what a clever petulance of man." Smaug refuted with annoyance, his voice vicious with anger at having to listen to the obvious.

"Yes, yes. It is palpable to me my master that you are disturbed with unrest." Went on Alfrid, sensing he had little time to make his point "But perhaps instead of food, you wish for something…else?"

The moment he finished the last of his syllables, Alfrid knew he had made a mistake. Smaug's fire scorched eyes, though high above the human, became witness to a darker shade of flame, one alike to the fires of earth that burned beneath them. Of his master's anger, he needed no reminding of only how easy it was to spire. Like the embers of a blacksmith's forge, the slightest word or whisper could spread sparks, and the heat of such wrath nary left anything but pitiful ashes as witness to the life that was smote.

"Are you suggesting that you are privy to what I desire?" Lowly uttered the dragon, the closest such a beast could manage as a whisper. This though, this scathing calm sent Alfrid's mind into a dismal panic, the kind only mice know before a cat or an insect a spider. It was when his master showed this side of him, as the calculated predator he was, that there was something truly malevolent to fear in what may happen next.

"I never said so my lord, simply, that perhaps a remedy for your…" Alfrid did not want to say ailment, for most assuredly Smaug would find insult in that, "state," he decided was safest "a different approach needs to be taken."

"And what do you suggest?" Was the dragon's reply, his tone reaching the height of his abysmal amount of patience.

Alfrid, now seeing just how deep of a hole he had just now dug himself in trying to earn his master's favor, tried to think quickly despite the sweat that collected on his brow. He had not survived ten years of service to the dragon by mindless obedience alone. In order to appease one's master, you have to be one step ahead of their needs. Though with Smaug, if you guessed wrong about his requirements, it would not be your position in the household that suffered, but the skin that stretched over your bones.

"Well, it entirely depends on what my master desires. Food and drink does you no good, so perhaps lack of warmth?"

Oh dear, wrong answer.

Smaug straightened himself to his full height, becoming an imposing tower of red scales and looming eyes. This was often the sight that was presented before the dragon launched himself into the sky to hunt, or to feel the east wind come over his kingdom. But for this small, fearing man, it was not a sight welcomed, but hell inspired. Clutching the fur lining of his robes, Alfrid tried to keep his teeth from clacking together in fright.

"My fire burns bright and is as hot as the dark core of earth." Smaug stated, addressing the man below him with a growl of undisputed pride "It sinks into my scales, which alone have burned the flesh from thieves and kings alike. With but a breath, I melt gold into fiery rivers."

Lowering his head with the grace of an unearthly snake, Smaug leveled one of his scaled eyes with that of the putrid face of his servant.

"And you question its warmth?" A crack broke out across the dragon's face, bearing teeth and tongue. It was the creature's smile, a most devastating sight. From the back of his jowls, a small, but glowing heat began to build up, and immediately, Alfrid began to back away.

"No! Most ardently my master, I did not! Most ardently!"

In his panic, the human tripped over his own feet. Rolling pathetically in the gold hills of coins, he stood himself back up as soon as his balance was found within one of the valleys of treasure.

"Then, w-what about a lullaby?"

This was all that his mind could come up with, it was all he had, and Alfrid feared it wouldn't be enough.

And yet, the dragon did not thunder towards him with teeth bared. Instead, the beast lowered itself to a more reposed height, scaled head tilted by something akin to a malicious inquisitiveness.

"A what?"

"It's what human mother's sing to their children when they cannot sleep. But perhaps nothing quite so common and puerile for you, my lord." Alfrid explained, seeing a light at the end of this encounter that was the continuance of his life, "But though, what of music?"

"Music…"

The servant stood and watched with caution as they dragon's mind was turned inward, an expression of ponderance only an ageless being could muster taking form as claws instinctively began to rhythmically claw at the trove beneath them.

Music. Looking back, there were few instances in which Smaug had come across this distinctive art the lesser beings had the right to claim as their own. And those few were effectual. Once, before disbanding what was to be a city's celebration, Smaug remembered how swiftly the music the humans made had cut to his position in the sky, like a fierce gale, a burning piece of unfamiliar consciousness that quickly rent his mind distracted from his purpose. It was merely a brief encounter, the screams of the townspeople quickly bringing him back to awareness, but lasting none the less. Even the dwarves themselves, hungry alike for gold as dragons, took the time to marvel at music, some of their finest creations being ornament stippled harps and gilded flutes.

To admit its few, but capable effects this design of man's held on him that was not of the forge's design was shameful to Smaug in a way the others of his kind failed to see. Dragons had always been charmed by the notion of music, since its creation. But the lower creatures were oft to say "music tames the savage beast" and that idea, while romantic in theory to the two legged beings, was rather uncomfortable in reality to one such as him.

And yet, memories of the sounds slipping into the viaducts of his dream could not be dismissed. Though he was not a beast charmed or tamed, he was entranced to the effect sheep's guts had in hailing souls out of men's bodies, and to greater effect, cast itself into his own mind. Was it be possible that this could change all the lead sleeplessness in his mind into gold?

He decided to entertain the notion.

"Yes. Music is what I want." Said Smaug with a certainty that demanded immediate action, claws tightening in resolve, only to then see a complication "How do you suggest to provide me with this?"

"I-I'm afraid in this aspect my lord, I cannot off-offer you my services. I have no talent for tune. But instead of me, so coarse of voice, I can instead find one to your suiting?" Hastily explained Alfrid, gaining ground closer to his master as he dared to come nearer.

"Explain." Demanded Smaug.

"As you so kindly took me into your service, perhaps I can take in another who has the talents we are desiring?"

This once more made the dragon's head tilt curiously, this time in interest.

"Bring another human into my mountain…" Smaug's voice drawled with a guttural snarl as again his thoughts turned over in consideration. Having another human in his domain, as it must certainly must be a human for an elf or a dwarf would be entirely unwelcomed, was not one that pleased Smaug. But seeing no other avenue to gaining his newly founded yearning, Smaug conceded.

"Very well. Bring me a human that qualifies in the skill that I so desire."

"Well, those qualifications are contingent my lord, on what kind of songster you would like to own." Alfrid explained hurriedly "A deep voiced one perhaps? Or one that sings like a bird?"

"A bird?" Repeated Smaug, his voice overcasting that of his meek servant "You speak of a female musician."

"I suppose I do my lord." Replied Alfrid, noticing the slight intrigue that had taken alight in the one terrible eye of his master's that he could see, and knew that this was his chance to please his master to be wholeheartedly snatched "A womanly troubadour would offer far more than her male counterpart. She would be fair in looks, soft in voice, and could dance to your delight! I could even make sure that she is has not been touched by any man, as pure as the silver beneath your claws, so that she might rightly be yours as a part of your hoard."

With a flourishing wave of his hand, Alfrid concluded his speech.

"All this I could bring you and more…if you wished."

The description, however poorly reiterated, contented Smaug. Yes, a maiden. That is what he wanted. He always had a fondness for the females of the lesser races, their shapes reflective of their binding to giving life, able to tap into a grace wholly unknown and far more pleasing than their opposite. Even the most homely of them screamed so prettily when he tore apart their villages, and swept their men away with his fire. If he possessed one that could sing more melodiously then a typical woman's scream, then, surely it could soothe the stirring of his mind, and let him sleep.

"I do not wish. I demand." Spoke Smaug finally, voice cracking through the stale air like lightening "Find me a maiden that can sing like a bird and is fair. If she cannot remedy my unrest, then your flesh in my stomach will have to suffice."

With a tremor and a bow, Alfrid nodded his head.

"Very well, my King Under of the Mountain."

* * *

Yeah, so as you can see, there are some changes to the game. For instance, Alfrid is Smaug's servant. I've read a lot of legends and stories in which dragons keep creatures, some human, some not, around as servants or pets. It will play into the plot and add some drama, and don't worry, the insipid man won't be around for too long. Other changes will hopefully be obvious enough, but just in case, I will try to explain myself before and after hand.

As for Smaug's character, tell me how I am doing. He is as prideful as he ever was, and is quite clever, but I think some people forget about his boastfulness, so that's what I tried to do here. I don't know, just tell me what you think, and if you spot some places I can trim and shape up, please alert me.

Alright then, our leading lady will be introduced in the next chapter. And she won't be quite like the delicate bird Smaug is hoping to add to his treasure though…


	2. Wanderer

Chapter 2; Wanderer:

Thanks to Lola93091, vixen1991, and Guest for their kind and thoughtful reviews! Here for your enjoyment is the next installment of Why the Caged Bird Sings.

I would like to mention that here, I give no physical description of the main girl. That's because I wanted to establish her personhood…and I just didn't know at the time what I wanted her to look like when I was writing this. For all that, please enjoy!

* * *

Raelynne Thimblsting never understood the appeal of whistling while one traveled down a nameless road. Keeping a chipper tune while one stumbled over clumsy rocks or fields of dry, itchy grass felt out of place and unwarranted. The road was no place for mirth, let alone any sort of feigning of it in the form of perking her lips together and blowing a shrill note. In fact, Raelynne saw no mirth in traveling whatsoever. There was nothing to meet you but hard roads, hostile weather, and strangers that most unpredictably could offer kindness or danger.

All this in the end, only served to irritate her to unknown ends, as it so happened to be that she was a traveling minstrel.

If only, she sighed, there was a way to take the traveling part out of her occupation description. But alas, a music maker went where music was wanted, which, to Raelynne's continuing shock, was very near to nowhere.

It seemed that no one had an appreciation for the arts anymore. She could only afford to stay in a village for little less than a few days now, the people only willing to give her enough to occupy their local inn during festivals. No one wanted singing at weddings anymore, or tuneful mourning at burials. Alas no.

No one wanted a traveling minstrel that wanted to put off her travels.

Then again, perhaps it was not so much Raelynne's craft people did not want to idle around their homes, but her aggressiveness of said craft. Or perhaps her aggressiveness in general.

Yes, perhaps it was the latter, seeing as how the last town she had played at threw not just rotten vegetables at her and her instruments, but quite a share of arrows as well. She could not help it though, Raelynne knew herself to be a creature of passionate moments, her fine way of spinning her temper. But in a world so ready to selfishly wield the slightest of known feebleness, Raelynne saw no sin in being quick to spurn, or, at least, quick to defend. Though true, her sharp tongue and raised ire often did lead to the most unsettling of her troubles, but she could rightly claim that no one had ever had the pleasure of taking advantage of her. Not once, not since she had left her home long, long ago.

Granted, the sweeter tongue is more capable of endearing the wolf than the daggered one, as her mother had once said. Promising to rethink her manners and lessen her abrasive ways of twiddling her earnings from tight fists at a later date, Raelynne sighed in relief as the cloud covered village of Lake Town finally came into view.

It was not a sight for any eyes, sore or otherwise. The city was impressive in that, somehow, it was still standing. But other than that, nothing more than the cheeriness of grey could be found. The docks, stilted and unsure, stood the pile of homes above the lake it was so named after, much like a lazy turtle dragging itself into the water. Of the people, they were not of the sophisticated or really of the noteworthy, merely simple people with simpler desires, a background not unlike Raelynne's, one she'd rather forget.

This was her destination.

As reluctant as her steps where now, Raelynne continued onward, prompted by the distant clanking of the coins that were hers to claim. Where there was money, there was Raelynne to be sure. Earning money was of her chiefest pleasures, next to the winning cheer of a crowd. And in a few days, this place would be as close to a mithril mine some peddler like her could ever hope to see. In the coming full moon, the settlement known as Lake Town would be celebrating its Cair Day. Cair merely meant boat in Elvish, but the people of the Lake Town thought themselves quite clever to have borrowed the word for themselves.

Cair Day was the one day though that the people forgot things like Elves, troublesome wizards, and war; it was all their own and of their own devices. There was boat racing, fishing contests on boats, dining on boats, drinking on boats, all a person who spent their lives in such contraptions could ever long for really. As for Raelynne though, she would take great, underived joy in entertaining dock wobblers and having them give her their money, too drunk to count to make sure they weren't being overly generous to her greedy palm, or even notice that their purse was missing entirely…

_No, no. _Raelynne chided herself as she set foot on the first dock that reached out towards her. _No more stealing, remember? You promised. _

Walking on, she spun her body round to follow the movements of a rather sluggish cart carrying a hoard of apples past her, it's driver paying more attention to the tangled reins that guided his horse than to his produce. It would be only too easy, with quick fingers such as hers.

_Promises do not fill an empty stomach. _She grumbled to her morality, which had won this moment as Raelynne went on, focusing on finding what she needed rather than what she wanted, which happened to be a full stomach just now. At the creaking turn of the raised wooden path she had chosen, she spotted a group of men pushed tight under the eaves of a weather torn building. It was apparent to Raelynne that these particular men were getting ready for Cair Day ahead of time, the over poured flasks in their hands passing much fermented drink into their mouths and onto their beards.

_Ahh, but fools do. _Raelynne smiled to herself, a sweet expression she kept up as she made to stand before the men.

"Gentlemen, if you'd be so kind, would you direct me to the center point of this fine city's merriment making so that I might be able to offer my services to prolong it's joviality?" She asked, tone civil and ending on a delighted note brought on by the thoughts of the amount of money she could make.

Slowly, very slowly, one of the men, potbellied and curled nosed, turned his languid attention onto her. He squinted at her hard, unable to pair her soft voice with her appearance, which admittedly was disconcerting. Dressed in loose tunic and trousers, dirt smeared on her face and hair tucked under a lavish hat, she looked every part the gangly boy she strove to pass for when traveling. She very rarely came across trouble whilst wandering, but it never hurt to be prepared for when her bountiful luck to turn sour, and so to put on a slight masculine countenance was in her best interests.

"Wha ya say ther laadddeee?" The man finally slurred, and a bit of spittle flew towards Raelynne when he susurrated his last word. She sighed.

_Ah, yes, right. Remember Raelynne, these are simple folks. People of the lake. You know, dunces, so use smaller words. _

"Where can I find a pub? A large, popular one?" She restated, placing her hand impatiently on he hip.

"Oh, ya be wanin the Two Hea'ed Rat. Bes place a'ound."

Noting which way he sluggishly pointed, Raelynne forced a smile and a bob of her head to mimic a bow.

"Thank you ever so kindly gentlemen. I bid you all a good day."

Traveling boots colliding heavily against the wooden docks in her lazy gate, Raelynne's neck craned to take in the changes the town had experienced since her last visit. It had been merely six years ago, when she had first started to travel around to utilize her gifts, she just a girl of shy of seventeen. And as certainly she had changed since then, for the better, so too had this place only with the opposite effect. It had sunk into itself, its colors had run into one another like an unfinished and bleak painting, and even the waves of the lake's water looked somehow affected with a kind of slow poison, turning all into this dreary sight Raelynne saw before her.

Still, she had to admit, there was a life in this town, and in its people, to be admired. A stubbornness to cling to whatever hope could be grasped proliferated this place in a way that Raelynne was all too familiar with. Though, what continued to plague this place was something Raelynne only had rumors to go off of. Some said it was its new mayor's poor choices, others that the elves were cursing this place, and some, more interestingly, blamed the Red Dragon.

Stopping upon noticing she had hit a dead end, Raelynne's brows furrowed into confusion. Looking around, she spied a lump of a human hazardly leaning back on a stool with it hat pulled low so all Raelynne could see of the head was a plume of bleak feathers.

"Is this the Two Headed Rat?" She came forward to ask. Without lifting the hat, the stranger pointed to a swinging sign placed above them.

"Depends. What that lock like to ya?"

Raelynne felt a grimace of annoyance cross her lips as sized up the sign, but kept it out of her tone.

"A two headed rodent."

"Then it locks like yav come to da place yur fixin' for."

Being of easily spired temper, it took little to no effort of strangers to vastly irate Raelynne, and this one was no exception. But she had her way of coping with such things, namely, by the most unhelpful means. That is being, of course, speaking.

"I can tell by your elegant way with speech that you were not burdened with an overabundance of schooling, my good sir."

Finally, the brim of the stranger's hat was lifted, and Raelynne instantly regretted what she said. Not the insult she uttered, no, but the 'sir' part, as the chubby face of the stranger revealed a hidden, but present femininity.

"Wha ya be sayin' to me?"

_Damn. Not starting on the right leg, are we Raelynne? Concentrate. We need the money!_

"Perhaps we can start again?" Raelynne went on hurriedly, taking off her hat to release her telling long hair and offering a low bow that bent her awkwardly "I am Raelynne Thimblsting, traveling minstrel seeking to bring only more joy to your infamous Cair Day here in Lake Town. Perhaps you are hiring?"

The stool the woman sat on creaked forward as she stood herself up to an unexpected height.

"Minstrel eh?" Scratching her wrinkled chin, the woman, who now Raelynne was starting to assume was the owner of the tarnished tavern that leaned before her, raked her eyes over Raelynne in consideration.

Raelynne did not feel worried in the slightest about her being hired. Bar Keeps were often to hire their own entertainment on festival days, to draw the crowd inside for further celebration into the waning nights. But what assured her confidence was that she, unlike so many others of her kind, stood out in a way that they could not. It was the trademark she was born with, one she was grateful for and resentment of, but soon enough, the bar keep woman herself spotted it, and a smirk of approval was born on her face.

"If it's a job ya want, get insid'. Got room and board. You'll play every nigh' and on Cair you'll play all day, got it?"

Raelynne once more bowed, this time in true earnest.

"Madam, for you and that swelling coin purse at your side, these fingers will fly and this voice will weep jewels."

Following the woman, who had pointedly stated Raelynne was to call Lady Bern, up a tight staircase that led up from the ground floor of the Two Headed Rat, the now employed minstrel was shown to her quarters. Lady Bern quickly left Raelynne and the four, hole ridden, leaky walls to get acquainted, much to the young woman's relief.

She cared not that the straw mattress stank of fish oil and tar, her pillow reeking of stagnant water. Nor that the view outside of the barred window was that of the bleak wall of the neighboring building. Only that she finally, after months of wander, had somewhere to lay her head.

_O bed! O bed! Delicious bed! That heaven upon earth the weary head, lay me to such still sleep that others might think me dead!_

Was her last exhausted thought before she fell onto the bed exhausted, body succumbing to a quickly spurned sleep.

* * *

Greedy little goose, isn't she? I rather like Raelynne, as she is sort of a first for me. Sure, she's sarcastic, which is kind of requirement of my characters, but I've never written a character this smug before or who enjoys being on center stage as much as you will come to see she does.

For the next chapter though (which will be up this Sunday or Monday), things get worrisome as Ciar Day arrives, and Raelynne preforms. But, lurking in the back of the crowd and in the corner of her eyes is a most unwelcomed attendant…


	3. Spied

Chapter 3; Spied:

I am so, so, so sorry kiddies! I got swept up with summer class for university (we have exams every week), and my job. Things got busy and I had to push this aside. Also, this chapter wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to, and had to be re-written several times. But here it is, nice and long to make up for my absence! And as a bit of a spoiler, in just two more chapters, Raelynne and Smaug will finally meet!

The song in this chapter are experts from** "Maid on the Shore" by Solas**, a very lovely ditty that I suggest you listen to for atmosphere. In nearly every chapter from this one on, there will be a song featured, as Raelynne is a minstrel, that you all will be able to listen to if you wish, as I will list them.

Also, just to clarify, italics without quotes around them are thoughts. Like this:

_I think I'd really like a cookie._

While words in italics with quotes and in centered in the format mean they are being sung:

_"I really want a coookkiiiieee!"_

Get it? Got it? Good.

Now, unto the story.

* * *

The most unwelcomed, most hideoderous sound in all of creation twisted Raelynne's consciousness into that of the regretfully wakeful. Rising from her weakly framed bed of straw and tattered sheets, she felt a deep seated loathing rise.

_Rooster. Yes, roasted rooster sounds lovely for breakfast._

She venomously thought as she attempted to close the shutters of her one window in a sleepy hope of shutting out the crow of the bird that tormented her. Succeeding without the desired effect, Raelynne consented that she had no choice but to make ready for the day. Goose stepping back towards the bed so as to grab at her worn travel bag, which she refused to replace on principles of cheapness, she cursed every single floor board in the room for being ungodly cold against her feet. With half shut eyes, she began to search blindly for a brush to tame down her hair, when Raelynne felt a sudden wave of energy seize her upon a realization.

Today was Ciar Day. Today, she was going to make a lot of money.

As if just having taken a bite of Lembas bread, Raelynn felt more animated then she had in days, needing no further provocation to wake as she then hurriedly rushed to meet the day.

Despite her previous morning listlessness, Raelynne fervently tossed off her nightdress to replace it with her best linens and costume dress, one that had trailing ribbons and striking myriad of colors mixing like stain glass, for wearing pronounced colors was the expectancy of minstrels and troubadours. It was cut off short above her ankles, as brevity is the soul of dress slips, yet was free enough in the waist and neckline to dance in. Though more accustomed to plain the boots, trousers, and long tunic she often wore on the road, today Raelynne needed to be more pleasing to the eye, or at least, to the intoxicated eye.

Unfortunately for her, even that was rather difficult to manage with her meager talents for accentuating. Though without a mirror, Raelynne could sum up her physical shortcomings quite easily. Namely, that her large heart did not, as is so sadly often the case, inhabit a large bosom, and in this business that made all the difference in way of tips when you were a female entertainer. But she was not without her appeasements; her slender legs were made quite agreeable from her many wanders, and her pale skin was pleasingly dappled with freckles from her years under unclouded skies.

_Kisses from the sun, I think mother used to call them, owing to how much it adored you. Yes, that's what she told little sister- _

The brief, carelessly unfiltered thought left a sudden sting, taking form physically as a pause in Raelynn's rushed movements. Unconsciously, her head fell some, bowing to the heavy memories that now rose into the light of her mind. How long since she had dragged up the memory of her mother? Her sister? Raelynne usually did well in forgetting her past, as a necessity. But now that one simple thought led back to many lanes and avenues of wounded thought. Idly she braided her long hair, a habit from childhood, and forged attempt to distract herself against a building rapid of grief…

With a talent for disguise, Raelynne pushed her heavy thoughts away and placed on a wonderfully feigned smile that could charm a snake from its skin. Painting red those lying lips with a brush of her maquillages without the aid of a mirror, she heaved out the last of her woe with a titter of determined, if exhausted, merriment. More than ready now for a full day of celebration, Raelynne grabbed her beloved bag of instruments, tied on her ghillies with haste, and rushed out in an urge to be part of the peoples' merriment to forget everything except the chime of her soon to be earned wages.

~:o0o:~

Since she was little, festivals had always entranced Raelynne. Whatever the purpose for its cause, be it the remembrance of a founder, the victory of a revolution, or yes, even for something as silly as boats, Raelynne could never help but feel infected by the atmosphere of a celebration. Only on the battlefield did people feel an encompassing camaraderie for one another such as they did when they danced and sang for a fair, and Raelynne loved being a part of such intricate sentiment.

She loved being the center of it even better.

For the faults of her temper and her money loving ways, Raelynne treasured being the center for attention just as iniquitously. It's why this profession of hers appealed to her so much, and why she knew herself to be successful at it too. She did not just depend on the cheer of the crowd for her livelihood; she lived solely just to hear it. It was the greatest distraction she had ever found for herself to forget the matters of her past, a paramount and sweet dependence.

Spending most of the day wandering the docks and playing where crowds had gathered to watch the boat races or fishing contests, Raelynne merely added to the celebratory atmosphere, unable to draw the crowds' attention fully onto her. But this was a predictable pattern. It would not be until evening when the sports and competition had ended and the drinking and dinners began that she would get her chance to be truly heard.

"A'ight. I wan the tumblers go firs, then da storyteller." Commanded Lady Bern, patron of the Two Headed Rat. The troupes she addressed nodded in agreement; it was costume for the owners of the establishments entertainers were hired to play at to choose the order in which they would perform, often because they knew what kind of crowd came in when, as this was their city and the entertainers merely passerbys.

"Then, I wan lass here ta go to ty up the even'ing. Ya gotta good song lined up?" Lady Bern then asked of Raelynne, who had arrived back to the pub in ample time to insure a spot for herself. She nodded, guessing that would put her performance around the time most of the families had left to put the children to bed, and the heavy drinkers became a bit rowdy and more easily impressed. It should be easy earnings for her tonight.

Time passed as the crowd that had gathered in the modest pub changed their make slowly from that of families treating themselves to a meal with meat, to that of the more worn and slogged men. Most of the children were taken away after the tumblers had had their three encores, and with them their productive mothers who wanted to get an early start on nursing their husbands' approaching wake into sobriety. Now all that remained were some of the more elderly of the fish mongers, and with them multitudes of the stubbly faced lads who fancied themselves old enough to brag of manhoods achieved. But overall, the crowd seemed to be too entranced with the darkening evening and their drinks to bother much with anything other than the passing skirt of a barmaid or lighting their pipes.

Awaiting her turn to perform, Raelynne waited behind the curtain of the makeshift stage Lady Bern had set up inside her tavern for the occasion of Ciar Day. Unable to see the crowd, but able to hear them laugh at the storyteller's jokes and fables, Raelynne leaned against wall that stood behind the stage, eyes closed and enjoying the show just as much as the crowd was.

"Waking up to nature's call, the drunken Gondorian lifts his robes and gawks at what he sees. He said 'Lad, I don't know where you've been, but I see you won first prize!'"

The sputter of stifled laughter that left Raelynne was overshadowed by the roar of the audience at the rather lewd conclusion to the storyteller's joke. Smiling to herself as she stood herself straight, Raelynne decided that it was time for her to prepare for her own act. She began the ever tedious debate as to what would be her main instrument as she dug through her bag of tricks. She was skilled in all of them, but many had to be eliminated since she was going to dance. That, and the choice of her song certainly narrowed down the options to one instrument-

With a startle, Raelynne's attention was grabbed by the sense that she was no longer alone. Curiously, her eyes danced around, wondering if it was the storyteller returning from his act. But being the only one behind the stage's curtain, she was met with no answer as to where this sensation was originating from, which only served to irritate Raelynne. Her poor senses often played tricks on her, making for many nights spent in dark woods while traveling sleepless.

She knew it to be a habit left over from her days at home to be always on edge, and back then she was grateful of it, as many times her skittishness served to sharpen her mind, cautioning her nature despite her habit for rash temper. But these days, it was often times more of an inconvenience than a help, making her jump at shadows that didn't even exist. Continuing on after chiding herself with a tsk, Raelynne concentrated on the task before her, ignoring the warnings of being spied upon her senses hopefully feigned.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have much enjoyed spending time with you all and making you smile!" Said the storyteller from his spot on the stage, taking a bow or two for the hearty cheer he received. Putting his hands up for silence, he continued "But now, I must give up the stage for the Two Headed Rat's final act for this evening. Please welcome Raelynne Thimblsting!"

There was a mild, half-hearted applause welcoming Raelynne as she pushed a curtain aside to take the stage. The low torch light of the tavern had taken a rusted hue thanks to the lateness of the evening, and gave her a poor view of her audience. Not that it mattered as she readied her painted bodhran, tipper in hand, only to willing to start. Resting her hand against the stretched head, the cool goatskin of the drum feeling natural against her hands, Raelynne breathed in deep to calm the nerves that always danced from the first time she performed and still to this day.

The sound she produced from her practiced fingers was in tempo with the evening's emotions, from the length of joy to the shortness of expectations. Years of lonely dedication to practice had taught her much, to keep her touch firm, light, demanding, passive, loving, forceful; to be a contradiction was to be a musician. To start, she let it beat little tunes so low that the murmur of the crowd dulled it some, but soon, it rose, louder and louder, as her voice then joined with it in harmonious consonance with its rich sound:

_"There was a fair maiden, she lived all alone. She lived all alone on the shore oh. No one could she find but to cover she'd mind, and to wander alone on the shore oh, to wander along on the shore oh."_

With the first verse done, she had gained back the flittering attention of the crowd, and a smile started to stretch itself over her cheeks. Stepping side to side, adding a twirl here and there, Raelynne made the movements of her body as much an instrument as her voice with the simple motions that fluttered the skirt of her vivid dress and long tresses. The tipper in her hand struck the drum's head faster now as Raelynn lifted it higher, her steps becoming more flamboyant as she took the length of the stage in her stride, smiling to the curious watchers who had come closer to its edge.

_"There was a fine captain who sailed a fine ship, and the weather be steady and fair o. 'I shall die, I shall die!' the fair captain he cried 'if I can't have that maid on the shore, shore, shore. If I can't have that maid on the shore o.'"_

With a small leap that kicked up the pleats of her dress, she spurned an applause berated with a few brawly cheers. It had always been said, if you wore a short enough skirt, the party would come to you. And this instance was no different, as Raelynn could not help but notice a few lascivious hands reach out to tug at said skirt, but she always flittering out of reach. The pulse of her drum picked up in its rhythm, becoming more wildly.

_"After many persuasions they brought her on board. They seated her down in a chair oh. He invited her down to his cabin below…"_

With a feignly timid bow of her head as she dipped her hips at the suggestiveness of the lyric's meaning, she earned yet another hoot of approval, followed this time by the charming tinkle of a few sparse coins being tossed onto the stage. Goaded by greed she continued on, throwing her heart and body into the song with a fierceness to forget and to be admired. This certainly promised to be a most profitable, and perhaps even enjoyable, night.

_"Farewell to all sorrow and care, oh! Farewell to all sorrow and care, oh!"_

~:o0o:~

The celebratory evening in Lake Town sank further into itself as the night took over, a late fog travelling through on an idle wind. With it came a lull of quiet as the once lurid revelers took to their beds, too tired or inebriated to witness the oncoming midnight that symbolized the end of their precious Cair Day.

Among the few lugged and lonely that still found themselves within the Two Headed Rat, Raelynne sat at the bar, alert and wakeful. Though often incurable of somnolence in the morn she knew the value of the late night; the cover of dark, the sleeping multitudes, and the advantage of traveling within the quiet and unassuming dark brought comfort to her, along with a restlessness that was often the cause of her morning listless. She did not mind it though, in fact, it was difficult for her to understand why others were not of the same habit as her. A sunless sky was dangerous; it was when the criminally shrewd made their wicked plays, when the most horrid predators did their hunting. Her cautious, if at times skittish, nature did not allow for Raelynne to understand how so many could sleep through the most treacherous interval of the diurnal.

"Here."

Raelynne's wonderings were stopped at the sight of a flask of golden froth was placed before her, slashing some. Looking curiously up to the impassive face of Lady Bern, Raelynne leaned away from the bar in a gaze avoiding retreat.

"Oh, um, well..."

"It's on da house."

"Ah. Yes, thank you very kindly." Replied Raelynne with a smarmy gratitude; she was never one to resist anything free in this world, however rare and misleading those things often times were. The drink was cool to her lips and warm to her throat, a lovely concoction that she greedily took down, still somewhat thirsting after her performance.

Lady Bern took the flask once she was done, smirking at the girl's already reddening cheeks. Raelynne's eyes followed the woman in bored interest, having nothing more preoccupying for herself to do as she waited for the tavern owner to shoo out all her guests before paying her. With a light-footedness Raelynne did not think possible for one of her sturdy build, Lady Bern tended to the last of her patrons, most of them leaning over their tables, already snoring.

One however seemed to be cursed with the same insomnia that was with Raelynne. Stiff postured and fingers impatiently tapping, a man trapped in a corner table watched for Lady Bern as she came closer. The drink before him was untouched, and it seemed to Raelynne the man had not allowed one drop past his thin lips. Becoming uninterested when the Lady Bern finally made her way towards the curious stranger, Raelynne turned back to face the bar to ruffle through her already packed bag, missing the flash of a bountiful amount of coinage the man had covertly slipped towards the now greedy eyed Lady Bern.

"Here, another." Offered Lady Bern when she had made her way back, placing another flask before the young woman.

"I fear your generosity will quite spoil me." Sneered Raelynne, who none the less took what was freely offered. The traverness smiled broadly.

"After dat money ya earned me wit your act, you deserve sum spoilin'."

"Agreed."

Scowling at the rather haughty answer Raelynne replied with, Lady Bern hid the expression quickly as the girl placed the flask down, already finished. Barely flushed, the elder woman could not help but admire how akin the lass's drinking habits were to that of the band of dwarves that visited her establishment recently.

"How's ya came to be here in Lake Town? Eh?" She suddenly asked, bringing Raelynne's wandering attention onto her "Traveling with folks? Husband?"

Eyebrows quirked in curiosity, Raelynne pondered what could have brought on this friendliness from the usually sour faced Lady Bern. But seeing as how she would like this to be the one town that would not run her out with rotting produce, she decided to humor the woman.

"No. Not traveling with anyone."

"Really? Nice girl like you hasn't had even one suitor to call on her? Not one in all your travels?" This earned Lady Bern a glare from Raelynne. It was often the assumptions of those more gutter minded folk to accuse young girls who traveled alone, regardless of announced profession, to have one wanton commonality. And while it was true of some female minstrels, Raelynne hardly felt it should be of anyone's business, especially that of a noisy taverness.

"No. I have no patience for such things. Or talk of such things for that matter." She tartly replied. Lady Bern, wisely, decided to change the subject.

"Then how'd a girl like you get into this sort of business? All by yourself? That's the curious thing."

"It wasn't really." Shrugged Raelynne, who gestured to have her empty flask refilled. Lady Bern stubbornly complied ."Had a sort of knack for the dramatics since I was little. So the choice was clear from the beginning for me. Become a minstrel or go into diplomacy. I just happened to choose the more honest vocation."

This produced a chuckle form the taverness, who watched as Raelynne slung back the flask she had just filled.

"Sharp lass you is."

A quick glance towards the stranger, and a sly smirk, was hidden from Raelynne as the woman continued to mutter.

"Sharper you'd be if ya stayed vocated bit longer."

Once more, Raelynne's eyebrows quirked in question, a showy smile coming forth.

"Lady Bern, we are two women of kindred ilk. Meaning I don't think either of us are for giving the run around with our vocabulary when there's money involved."

"Crowds around here may not be too large, but they're steady. Drinks one of the few things around this town one can put in one's belly anymore, only cause we get it special from those Point Ears. But some entertainment now and would cast off the Red Dragon's shadow."

Explained Lady Bern in a business tone of voice, if somewhat tartly. Raelynne's mind however was distracted by the last of what she said.

"People still tell that story around here? About the Red Dragon and the dwarven treasure it guards?" She asked inquisitively, an expression of childlike interest coming forth.

"Aye, but it ain't not story." Brushed off the woman, who continued on before Raelynn was able to ask more, "An' no one would bother you, see, not here. Not even if any really took notice of…well."

Lady Bern's decision to tactfully trail off to leave unsaid what might offend was not appreciated by Raelynne, who took on a sudden, dark glower of shame and anger. The girl lowered her head, hiding from view that which Lady Bern spoke of with the fall of thick locks, acting as an impromptu curtain.

"Wouldn't they?"

"Nah. None sober nough 'round here ta get a good lock anyways."

Raelynne smirked emptily.

"That is a comfort indeed."

Her want to stay longer depleted thanks to the reminders Lady Bern unknowingly instilled in her, Raelynne stood up, slinging her heavy travel bag across her shoulders with a huff.

"It's a tempting offer, Lady Bern, as tempting as the shade of a porch on a summer's afternoon to the farmer's cat. But I am afraid I must continue my travels, even with my boots as well-worn as they are." She said with a sad flourish towards said boots, a mask of comedy being skillfully constructed over her solemn expression.

"Ya certain? Steady money ta be made. Room an' board half price." Asked the woman, becoming slightly perturbed that Raelynne did not take her offer, darting a worried look at the stranger in the corner of her establishment. Raelynne smiled widely.

"There you go again, as alluring as spiced wine on a fall's night, but I am afraid my decision is as certain as they come. I must take my leave of this most charming abode of yours as the road just does not call my name, it shrieks it."

"Hmph. No need to caterwaul with yer fancies to me, young lass." Gruffed the now annoyed Lady Bern; though all the pretty words the girl spoke, she could tell. The lass was quite a rude thing. Still, she shoved a hand into the pocket of her apron, tossing out a small leather pouch that landed on the bar between them with a metal tinkle. Raelynne, knowing that sound quite well, took the bag of coins with a thankful nod before nimbly tucking it away into her own pocket.

"Then I shall caterwaul here no longer, and instead go to make the journey that awaits all such fools as I." With a bow, Raelynne showed herself to the door, vacating the premises only after one last flourishing gesture of goodbye to Lady Bern, who gladly watched the door slam behind her.

~:o0o:~

_Fool. Great, unmeasurable fool. Great, unmeasurable, unfathomable, colossal fool. Great, unmeasurable, unfathomable – _

Raelynne's thoughts raged through her mind as she at last made it past the rim of Lake Town, the fog blanketing much of that ahead, behind, and even below her feet. She did not seem to care much though, as her boots stubbornly trudged forth; unhindered by the drinks she had admittedly swigged down like a common fishmonger in her rising temper.

_A permanent residence, a steady fee. A roof and bread. I could have had that long ago if I was not so damned foolish._

Her hands clenched at her bag in tight, whitening fists, her simple way of bleating herself without having to resort to slapping herself for her foolishness. Here it was, before her, the offer of residence she had always been complaining of never receiving, right before her. Even if it was the Lady Bern who presented it, it was an offer for a stay none the less, one that could even prove profitable. The town was crawling with rumors that its new Mayor would lead them to prosperity and riches to rival that of the Red Dragon's fabled hoard.

She could have easily chosen to stay, and she was sorely tempted. But it was not the Lady Bern's rudeness or the town's dismal chance of prosperity that made her refuse.

_No. No, not foolish. Cowardly. Cowardly without the instinct for self-preservation. Only the knack to scurry and cringe._

A traveling minstrel who wanted to put off her travels? Hardly. Though still truly Raelynne found no enjoyment in traveling on foot, it was a necessity. In that, she wasn't traveling, but running away.

Due to her nature, Raelynne had many worries. Mostly, she worried about food. Food, the cold, and her shoes. There was also the greedy matter of her wages. But it was not the coin she is really after, but what the coin could do for her, as someone she knew once said to her. It can keep her from starving. Keep her warm, keep her safe. Keep her from ever having a need or a thought about going back to the place that she ran from. That drove her out.

Her resilient spirit notwithstanding, Raelynne was no shallow optimist. Hope is what sits by a window and waits for one more dawn, despite the fact that there isn't an ounce of proof in tonight's black, black sky that it can possibly come. For her there were many nights like that. Because of such she did not walk this world with open, welcoming hands. Rather with her heart closed to everything but the past that had taught her such cruel lessons about the world. She would run, on the slim faith she allowed herself to believe in that it was for the best.

Continuing on, Raelynne's grip loosened itself, releasing her distresses seize on the flow of her blood. With almost a panic to the movement, she clutched at the neck of her shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. Underneath the cloth, she felt the presence of thin linked metal, made warm by its permanent place against her chest, branding her with the memory of how it came into her wrongful possession.

The fog now leaving her at the entrance of the scattered brush of woods that surrounded the lake, Raelynne's pace quickened in self-ire to the confession of her guilt and the brief hope of leaving her thoughts behind in the haze that swallowed Lake Town.

* * *

The reason it took me so long to update was because I didn't like how the first part of the story, with Raelynne by herself, was going, and then I had to fix up the second part to mess with it! I'm still not satisfied, and might fix it later, but I wanted to give you wonderfully patient readers an update. Oh, and a bodhran is an Irish drum with a thin frame ranging from 10 to 26 inches in diameter. It is held in one hand while the other beats with a double sided drum stick, or tipper, and it produces such wonderful, rich sounds. I suggest listening to a few songs its featured in if you still have no idea what I am talking about.

And oh, who was that stranger at the tavern? What will become of Raelynne as she enters the woods alone? And when will Smaug and Raelynne finally meet? Oh, so many questions, and all will be answered in the coming chapters. Till then kiddies, I bid thee farewell…(I swear, the next chapter will be up this coming week!)


	4. Help

Chapter 4; Help:

Just a short little chapter to set up how Raelynne ends up in Smaug's layer, establishing herself as a person a bit more before we shove her into a very precarious situation. But it should be a bit of fun.

I need to make a grevious apology to you all. I kept you all waiting for so long for this chapter. I had become so busy and, admittedly, lazy. But inspiration came and beat me over the head to finally write another chapter for you all! I will be working immediately on the next chapter after I publish this one, and so hopefully that one will be coming out soon, but I shouldn't make promises, because I have trouble keeping them to you my dears. But still, enjoy!

I give thanks to all those who made reviews, I read them all and all make me smile! Hopefully I can return the favor with this chapter!

* * *

The evening was dying upon the mountain, gold rays stretching over its cragged sides. With no life of green to taint its dismal crags, the sunset's casting was merely a shade of passing beauty over the scorched land, fleeing as low hanging clouds covered the sun from the squalid sight of it. No hint of the warm firelight of a home dared be present to the mountain's shadow, as if all live had been banished from the face of it by a curse. Truly a most empty place in the pitch black of approaching night, a land few, and foolish, travelers would traverse only under the most dire of fortunes or miseries.

"Of all the damned luck…I still have no inkling as to where I am going." Sighed Raelynne to herself as she stopped to breathe along the path she had chosen to follow, somewhat regretful of that decision now.

Overlooking the landscape around her, she recognized only a few sights, namely that of the Lonely Mountain and the small speck that was Lake Town in the distant body of water below. She decided, once finding herself by chance making it out of the forest, to travel by the mountain path. She had thought its giant face would protect her from the chill of the wind, and its view might offer her a chance to spy any sight worthy of her fascination, such as a better path to take.

But having wandered this path for the better part of the afternoon and now into the faltering evening, she had yet to see a rabbit trail let alone another route. At this rate she would be coming across the ruins of Dale, and then there would be nothing for her but to turn back and hope that she had missed an alternate course.

"But, indeed not all who wander are lost, and so, wander on I must." She heavily sighed with a wearily cheery smile as she spoke out loud this false bravado, hoisting her bag unto her shoulder with the difficulty of one that was tenderly aching from travel, "I will eventually come across a village needing a minstrel with sore feet and a sore back, it's only ever a matter of time."

Pressing her hands to the small of her back to stretch as she began walking once more, Raelynne released a grateful groan as some stiffness there decided to snap out from her spine. It was the least one could expect though, from sleeping up in the thick branches of a tree. A good, if somewhat sore, habit, as it kept her thin frame from off of the cold ground, and also from the fat jaws of whatever beast, or man, who would try to take advantage of her sleeping state.

Such cleverness on her part though, did not keep a small pebble from taking advantage of her shuffling steps, causing her to stumble before she ungraciously recaptured her balance.

"Oh, damn this mountain! And damn this path, if it even is a path!" She shouted rather childishly as she sought to punish the stone that had bothered her, kicking it away venomously. Her echoing voice stilled her however, as in answer to the shrill reverberation there came the sound of tumbling, and heavy, boulders.

She breathed quietly for a moment, listening. The cascading sound was distant, and lasted only for a moment as the mountain settled back into itself. After listening for a few more moments, Raelynne allowed herself to continue on, her lips pressing tightly together. As difficult as it was for someone like her, she would need to keep her voice silent. Unlike the other lost travelers who had traversed this path before her, she did not fear the superstition of stirring the dragon of legend from his sleep, as the story warns, but she did have a terrible dislike of the thought of being buried alive by a mountain side.

Ah, but the legend of the Red Dragon was not a legend, according to Lady Bern if memory serves correct. Amusing how some people were able to hold fast to their faith in magic and stories, even into their skeptical years. Raelynne herself was not certain how the entire story went herself anymore; it had been so long since she heard it.

_How did it go?…With scales of red and eyes of fire, with a treasure as deep as the seas themselves, there lies the Red Dragon named…named…_

Hm, how odd. She could not recall the name. She was certain the dragon had a name, something terrible and ancient no doubt. And that if anyone traveled into his domain, they risked waking him if they were not careful. And should one also be foolish enough to steal some of the treasure, they were assured a fate of crimson and flame. Such was the fate of all thieves in stories, with dragons or not, which was never a comfort to Raelynne. But if part about the treasure was true however, it was all too understandable to someone like her why so many had so foolishly risked everything for a chance of luxury.

But no, why should it be true? Stories, especially the fantastic ones, rarely were. No matter how many superstitious villagers or hopeful little girls believed them to be. Not even if stories of handsome princes and virtuous maidens, of monsters and knights, of strange men with the eyes of trapped skies falling to earth to love a mortal.

That last train of thought left Raelynne smiling with a sad recollection. Hadn't been her little sister who had made that one up? She did have such an imagination, to scheme up such stories while they used to lay beneath the juniper tree, wasting summer days with idle cares…

Her sentimental smile turning itself into a bitter frown, Raelynne hushed her thoughts. It would do her no good to think any more about such things. It would always lead to the same end, with her regretting her decisions and wishing idly.

Such a pattern she had often repeated, but it never did her any sort of goodness. Regretting was something for those who were at least able to consider rectifying for their mistakes, and her time for such was long past. But even if all she had left to claim were mistakes, if there was but one lesson Raelynne took with her, it was that life is made in the mistakes, especially from those you learn from. And she had learned plenty, from how to sing, how to fend for herself, how to steal…

On reflex, a hand reached to clutch at the center of her chest, her fingers finding a circle of metal that lay beneath the layers of her clothing. Gripping it firmly, she was once again reminded of how small the item was, how lightly it hung around her neck. And yet the small thing was truly the heaviest of burdens. In her most lonely hours, the thing seemed to sear itself into her, leaving a burning scar to match alongside the others she had earned from those she had lov–

_No, that's enough of that now. Enough for now and forever. _

After realizing she was sinking back into the very thoughts she was trying to push away, Raelynne huffed out a frustrated sigh. Her mind was going about in circles of remembering and denying, and she was in great need of a distraction. Today was just one of those times when she felt like her skin was the only thing that kept her from going everywhere else, as it always was for her when traveling with no destination in mind.

Daring to risk the instability of the mountain's rocky side, Raelynne dug through her bag to search for something to divert her mind. Finally, she decided upon playing her small cittern, and her hands took their positions on its slender body with proficient instinct.

Raelynne, though still vehemently against whistling while traveling, thought playing a whole other matter.

Though knowing a score of many sonnets and songs, Raelynne began to sing a particular composition she had been creating of late. It was a pretty enough ditty she thought, fast paced and quick to inspire a hastening stride in her steps. As she experimented with changing the tune or tempo, Raelynne felt herself fall back into a thoughtless calm.

Music was a balm to a soul as hers, restless and erratic. It could always tame whatever plagued her, be it her thoughts, or her guilt. Perhaps that old saying held truth, that music could soothe any savage beast, even the one inside a troubled mind.

"Hello?"

Immediately Raelynne paused in her playing, becoming motionless in confusion and surprise. Looking about her, she searched for the voice that had just called out. It seemed her usually skittish senses had failed to warn her as they usually had, but as she came across no inkling as to the source of the voice, Raelynne allowed herself the hope that it was her imagination.

"Hello? Anyone there? Please do help!" Called the voice again, and this time it was easy to pinpoint. Cut below the stony path she took, there was a small crevasse, no deeper than a sapling tree. Its sides were sharp, and prodding out from them was a desperate and dirty hand, waving and clutching stones as if to claw its way out.

As many travelers would tell, it was always safest to continue forth whenever one heard that most troublesome word, help. It often times lead any and all good Samaritans to certain misfortune. Whether by brining themselves into danger or by falling into some kind of trap, it mattered little, as the end was always the same.

But still, Raelynne found herself peering down the edge of the small cavern, trying to justify herself for such a lapse in her usually unwaveringly cold reasoning.

_Curiosity. Nothing else. Maybe the poor unfortunate has a rich fortune on them…_

"Yes?" She called down in answer to the voice that still called out panickedly. At the sound of her own though, the man, as there was only room enough for one to be trapped in that dark, tight space, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why, thank the ancients! I feared that my luck had run out and I might be lost within this mountain scape forever!"

Raelynne, despite the possible severity of the situation, could not stop her smirk.

"I am compelled to say sir, it was not luck that happened you upon me, but rather, I by chance just happened to hear your femme shrieks for assistance first in the middle of a desolated wasteland paraded by many a foul beast."

With that, she took a few steps back, digging into her wondrous bag of tricks. Pulling out a thin cord of rope, she promptly began wrapping one end around her waist. She was not strong, but she was clever with the leverage of her body, and should the poor unfortunate prove to not be too heavy, her rescue should be a success.

"Here, grab the end and climb out." She called out as she leaned low towards the small crevasse, with legs staunched.

In an instant she felt a desperate, almost greedy tug at the end of the rope she offered. For a moment, she feared she might have indeed been tricked and was about to be pulled down into some fellow thieves lair. But she steadied herself, digging her heels into the ground, and after a few huffs and groans, the poor unfortunate had made his way out of the dark.

Unfortunate indeed. As the man, hunched and wordlessly communicating that he needed to catch his breath for a moment, was a very interesting specimen. His eyes were large and gleaming, like a rodent's, and there seemed to be a downy caterpillar who had taken permanent residence on his brow. Clothed entirely in black with stringy hair sticking out from underneath a curiously shaped hat, Raelynne surmised him to be a rather funny sort of being, but so far, wheezing and pale as he was, he seemed harmless.

"Oh, thank you." The man finally spoke, tone full of gratefulness "Such luck. Yes, I was lucky. More lucky to chance upon someone out so far."

Taking out a skin of water and handing it to the still gasping man, which he accepted greedily, Raelynne noticed the man possessed nothing but the robes on his back. To be without a weapon while about in these times, let alone without a travel sac, was either foolish or scheming, and since the man had neither, suspicion rose within Raelynne, and she began to search for other hints of trouble. Finding none as the man successfully drained the skin she had given him, she meet his wide, shiny eyes as he then spoke again, voice now less horse.

"Once again, I thank you, kind stranger. I was on my way to make for the other side of Lonely Mountain, when a band of barbarians seized the chance to rob me of my horse and my purse. They left me in the hole in which you found me in, certain to die if it had not been for your kindness."

Raelynne smiled at the man for his thanks to her, which made him smile in return, a very unlikable sight to be sure. For a second, she thought she recognized the sight of the man, or at the very least that of his more...distinctive features.

"Where are you bound?" He continued, handing back the water skin to her, distracting Raelynne from her thoughts.

"Anywhere familiar." Was her politely smiling, if vague, reply. The man narrowed his large eyes in humor.

"Ah, so you are lost then as well. That answers the question why you would be traveling these dangerous, lonely parts."

Raelynne remained silent for a moment, suspicion still playing at the forefront of her mind. But, with one last summation, she deemed him not a threat. He had spoken freely of his coming to be in the situation she had found him in, and his story had credibility, as she had heard rumors and warnings herself in Lake Town about such road side robberies within these parts, and it explained his lack of travel items. However, he looked relatively unharmed, something that rarely, if ever, happened when one encountered 'barbarians'.

"Not so much as I do not know where I am, dear sir, more of where I am going. But I can return you to Lake Town, if that is what you wish." She finally replied, and her offer seemed to ignite the man's already shimmering eyes.

"Oh, by all means, please!" He answered with that unlikable smile. The man seemed to see nothing but kindness in Raelynne's guiding march back down the path she had taken to him, and strode by her side. But there was a less foolish motivation on Raelynne's part for her actions.

For one thing, the man might be so grateful of her actions that perhaps he just might find the need to repay her. Though he testified that he had no money on him, the man's extravagant, if slightly dirtied, cloak of black fur was worth a hefty sum. It would only take a moment on her part to free the owner of such a heavy item once he was fully indebted to her. Raelynne did think it curious that the so called barbarians that had taken advantage of this man before her did not think to take it, but then again, not all thieves are perfect at determining the price of everything as she was. Another reason was that Raelynne, though unliking of the travel itself, was never one to share the road with anyone. She wandered alone. Company was most unwelcomed in every degree. The sooner she got him on the path the better for her.

Regretfully though, the man sought the need to hold a conversation as the two reached a turn of the cliff side path they shared.

"Pardon, but, was it you who was playing that music before I was rescued by your company?" He asked, his eyes trained on her face with mild curiosity. Seeing no reason to be uncivil, Raelynne answered.

"Yes…though that was a newer piece of mine, and I fear it is not yet finished."

"I knew it! I recognize you! You were preforming at the Two Headed Rat on Ciar Day!" Suddenly yelled the man, a bizarre excitement crossing his face.

Raelynne stiffened. The man recognized her. Under the dirt that was always smeared across her face from her night in the forest, under the loose clothes that hid her body so well, under the wide brim hat that shaded her eyes, the man recognized her. There were many things to worry about on the road, from thieves, untamed weather, and the like, but nothing was more dangerous than being a young woman, traveling alone, and someone, a stranger, realizing it.

"Oh, you were most spectacular, truly." Continued the man, his version of a flattering smile forcing Raelynne to quickly disguise her grimace.

"I thank you kind sir." She kept walking on, the man following after her heartedly, not noticing the way Raelynne's change in demeanor nor the new tone her voice took. Though after a moment of just the sound of their footfalls, Raelynne forced herself back into a calm state.

Ever cautious, Raelynne had already calculated that if worse ever came to wear, she could certainly out run the thinly frail, and scrawny man, or use the sharp edge of the small knife she kept under the folds of her tunic to deter him from any successful attempts to do her ill. But this man, if he still be some chance was planning to do her unkind, he was playing the part of the helpless idiot ingeniously well. And the difference between stupidity and genius was that genius has its limits, and it seemed to Raelynne that this man had no limits. It was with this reasoning she had calmed herself with; no need to strain herself.

"And you have yet a different instrument in your hands. Tell me, how many can you play?" Asked the man, continuing the conversation Raelynne felt was turning into a friendly interrogation.

"As many as I can carry." She replied, patting her large bag that swung heavily at her side. The man beamed, showing off a set of white, crooked teeth.

"That's marvelous. Simply marvelous. And you sing and dance. Marvelous. So many talents."

Raelynne nodded politely at the flattery, feeling the need, despite her dismissal of the man as a threat to her, to space herself from him. Compliments were one thing, and in her profession she had gotten many, but out right slimy obsequiousness, well it just seemed that this man made a living off of his toadyism as she did her music.

_This man is a might peculiar to say the least. And a bit unpleasant as well. _

The man, finally taking notice of Raelynne's increasing discomfort with his company, animatedly dug into his robe's pocket, sudden remembrance coming over him.

"Oh! Here, please take this." He put forth his hand towards once done fishing something out of his robe, a glint of gold showing through his pale, clenched fingers, "For showing me the way back."

Raelynne felt no scruple about accepting the gold, and almost in an instant it was out of the man's hand and in her own.

_Well, perhaps he is not all that detestable. Though it was rather sloppy of those 'barbarians' he talked about to leave even this much behind. I certainly would never leave a scrap of a penny behind… _

But her fleeting thought on the sloppiness of the bandits the man had reported to her was gone as her palm weighed the few disks of gold, a smirk of success coming over her as her eyes spotted a familiar ridge just ahead.

"How kind of you sir, to gift me with the sweet clank of coinage for so little a trouble. We are already at the path that heads straight to Lake Town."

Pointing down the path and past the ridge she had spied, there laid a twisted dirt path that lead straight down to the forest that could finally be seen, though it was still some distance away. But it was indeed the same path Raelynne had just scaled up herself not a few moments before finding the man, and now it would serve as their parting, for she planned to continue up the mountain, feeling her luck of finding a new town laid there.

The man though did not immediately start down the path she pointed to, but instead turned to face Raelynne.

"Then perhaps for such an amount, you may permit me to bother you with a few more questions?" He asked, only polite curiosity to be seen in his features.

"…certainly." Was her hesitant answer only muttered but for the temptation that was the coins she now placed in her pockets. Perhaps the man was looking for information, something those in her profession were good for at a price. The man saw her answer very much satisfactory though, and proceeded to step closer as he spoke, something new in his glossy eyes.

"You obviously travel alone. But have you never had any suitors or lovers?"

Well, that was hardly what Raelynne was expecting. Her surprise though was quickly hidden, but she couldn't help a nervous chuckle as she took a step away from the man. And worryingly, her cautious eyes detected a change in his demeanour. He still smiled that sickeningly flattering smile, and his posture slumped and unassuming. But something had changed. He was standing between her and the pathway down back to Lake Town, almost like he was cutting her off even from the very sight of it.

"Some men break your heart in two, some men fawn and flatter, some men never look at you; and that cleans up the matter." Raelynne responded with a smile that grew faker and faker as her hand made to subtly move towards the place under her robes where laid her knife. Perhaps it was her own stupidity that had no limits, as finally the familiarity she had felt for the man came forth as she recognized him as the man who had shared the hospitality of Lady Bern only the night before, the man in the corner who had been watching her. With him here though, there was no excuse for coincidence, and Raelynne felt all her suspicion flood back into her now racing mind.

"Oh, yes." The man laughed flatteringly, taking one step forward to erase the distance Raelynne was trying to make between them "How clever. That is a most welcome trait as well. I take it you know some more clever sayings? Riddles perhaps?"

"A few." Raelynne took another step back, and the man took another towards her. She threw out pretense of politeness as she made to turn away. "Now, dear sir, if you just follow this path, I am certain you will reach Lake Town within a day. Perhaps sooner if you left. Immediately."

The man seemed to completely ignore what she had said though, focusing on nothing but her face, much to Raelynne's increasing discomfort. He was scrutinizing her, summing her up, and she did not like the conclusion he came to.

"And so beautiful as well. Why, just look at your eyes…"

Repelled, and now becoming fearful, Raelynne averted her eyes. Making the mistake of turning away from the man completely in order to hide what he was admiring, she was about to start her calculated plans of retreat. Walking away with a feigned calm, Raelynne made her voice firm for their parting.

"Sir, I fear this is when we become better strangers and part ways. I would say it was pleasant, if not for the fact that it decidedly was–"

Her voice cut from her at the shock of a force that took her to the very ground, Raelynne felt all her faculties detach from her mind. A warmth spilled over her face, one that sickened her with its copper taste when it made its way to her gasping lips. But all thoughts of disgust, of the harsh ground scraping her face, and of the man that now stood over her stopped as a creeping darkness took her from the imminent danger of her reality…and into sleep.

With a bored sigh, the man tossed aside the leather blackjack he had just used on the girl. Without a glance towards her now worryingly still form, he marched off of the path. Within a few moments, he produced two horses that were patiently waiting in the hidden habitation he had left them in merely an hour before.

Leading one horse right to the unconscious girl, he let go of the reins to then take hold of the travel bag that girl was clenching. With a careless shove of his foot, he managed to tear the bag away from the girl, rolling the girl over as well so she faced the sky. Gently, he tied the sack in place behind the saddle, opening it up briefly to check over the contents.

Next, the man turned to kneel down beside the girl. A moment was taken to push away the wide brimmed hat that had blocked most of the view of her face, spilling her hair out from underneath it and revealing all of her charm to him. A smirk of victory came over the volatile man.

"Come now then, song bird. We must will away to your new master."

* * *

Ah, poor Raelynne, her greed got the best of her. I like how my character is overly cautious, and yet, she has the great weakness of her temper and her greed. In a way, she has many traits like Smaug, which I wanted, as it's something they will connect over, but it plays in to the story in many other ways.

I really didn't like writing this chapter. It took me so long to write it, but I really wanted to establish Raelynne as a character before she and Smaug met. I didn't like it that I had Alfrid in it and Raelynne had to have such a lengthy conversation with him (as that is the identity of the man who was with Raelynne, and if you hadn't figured that out until now, ah, my poor child). But oh well, in the next chapter we will all have a bit of fun as Smaug and Raelynne finally meet!

The instrument Raelynne used in this chapter is a cittern, descendant from the Medieval citole, or cytole. It's kinda of like a mandolin really, and it hails such lovely, sharp, quick and yet earthy notes.

Join me next time as we visit Lonely Mountain, where Smaug waits impatiently for his song bird to arrive. Will he be pleased with who Alfrid has brought him? Or will Raelynne end up as a dragon's charred dinner? Till next time my eager kiddies…

And yes, I quoted Tolkien there. I couldn't help myself. I had to.


	5. Impressions

Chapter 5; Impressions:

I just couldn't wait to update, so I decided not to! Please enjoy folks!

Some of you may be wondering why I like calling Smaug the Red Dragon. The reason is that I grew up not only reading the Hobbit, and imagining Smaug as a red dragon, but I also used to watch the Bass cartoon The Hobbit, in which Smaug was indeed, a red dragon. So for the sake of keeping my childhood alive, Smaug is seen as a red dragon, though his appearance is that of the Peter Jackson rendition.

There is no song featured in this chapter, but I listened to **Thrice's "Red Sky"** over and over again. I think it's a good atmosphere song for Smaug, though not for poor Raelynne, as she finally (yes, finally) comes face to face with a legend we all love!

* * *

The mountain lay quiet. The stillness of the air weighed heavily in the stone halls, darkness entrapping all the senses into the unnatural silence. The vast, catacomb like halls of Erebor soaked in a coldness that seethed out from the marble pillars and stone columns. Everything was spacious, but all at once, all felt tight, as if some strange thing was invading, stitching the air closer together, sewing everything up in one moment of oncoming anxiety.

Muted by this repressive silence and tenseness was the steady breathing of Smaug. He had laid himself still upon his trove, not bothering to nest beneath its pleasant weight to rest. It did him no good anyways, though once upon it was the embodiment of comfort for the dragon. No matter what he tried, he still could not find that peaceful state called sleep. There were no relentless thoughts, no unsatisfied desires, no urges that had not been gratified. There was nothing other than mere wakefulness.

Mere dreaded, hated wakefulness to plague his hours with displeasure and growing ire.

Restless, the great dragon lifted his fearsome head, talons setting to work on clawing through the pile of coins that where beneath him. The loud chimes that rhythmically cascaded into echoes calmed him, though not as it once could. With the loss of sleep came a slow decline in all things enjoyable to Smaug. Meat, however red and fresh, tasted dull, and even the hunt itself for sustenance lost its charm. Even the sky itself could not tempt Smaug to fly, a temptation he had always satisfied since he first took to the wind, had lessened.

Perhaps, it was all merely just boredom. The activities and habits of dragons were not numerous, but with them came a pleasure in the fulfillment of all of them. And yes, all of his baser needs had been fulfilled, a hoard, food, safety, but for Smaug there was one possibility that he thought of that might be the reason for his current state, that of tediousness. He dismissed it before, but now it seemed more viable with every hour he continued to spend in waking.

To himself, the heat and victory of claiming this great hoard was merely a memory, but a glorious one. All his battles were. And when, so long ago, dragons were numerous, there were so many other glories. To fight, to bleed for a hoard or a victory, it was almost a second instinct to dragons next to their love of all things shimmering. Bouts with mortals, they were nowhere near as pleasing as a confrontation against one of his own, for when Smaug was confronted by mortals, there was only dust left, with one of his kind, there were spilt skies.

Despite their strong kinship and respect to one another, dragons would often fight whenever paths crossed, and for many reasons. Primarily it was to claim the other's hoard, but there were the occasional exchanges produced by a dragon simply vying for a mate, or trying to pin a potential one into submission. It was the only form of communication they could stand to have with one another, because for such creatures as dragons there were no need for pleasantries, merely a challenge that could finally satisfy their cry for blood, for power. They were creatures of dominance, and needed to dominate something worthy of them, to clash with a will as powerful as their own. Perhaps it was this baser need that had yet to be fulfilled for Smaug, though this was an impossible satisfaction.

Then perhaps, being the last, Smaug coveted for his kind again, even if nothing more than the opportunity to spill their worthy kinship, to fight with noble beings once more and have his blood race from a challenge and a struggle that could erase the tedium. Time can do many things to an immortal being. Making him the last of his kind was one such example.

Impatient with his pining thoughts that had become abundant in his state of sleeplessness, Smaug's tail swept itself through the air, stirring the silence and dust. A creature of magnificence such as him on principle did not let such things deter their mind, not even for a moment.

But in an instant his eyes flashed with interest as his senses picked up the faintest hint of a presence, his form becoming taunt in attentiveness.

Someone was in his mountain.

His senses working to unravel the company that dared make itself present to him, Smaug tasted the air, his sense of scent the strongest of all. With a single breath, all was told to him, and the dragon recoiled back down to his reclined position, though now there was a small excitement in his torching eyes.

It was Alfrid. The smell of him was always distinguishable against the stale mountain air, such an unfortunate offense to Smaug's senses that often he wondered why he bothered with the human. But following this was a yet another scent.

It was the scent of copper. Copper that poured over alyssum blended together with a warm, gentle spice of earth. A sweet musk. A feminine scent.

Alfrid was returning to the mountain. And he was not alone.

"My King Under the Mountain, I have returned." Announced the manservant to the dragon once he had finally arrived to face his presence. Alfrid was breathing heavily, having a blanket wrapped figure that weighed greatly in his arms for obviously quite some length of time and distance. Laying the heavy bundle upon the coined hill he had climbed up to greet his master none to graciously, the exhausted man did his utmost to bow to his master.

The civility shown by Alfrid was lost to Smaug, who deliberately ignored the bundle of blanket that had been set before him, settling instead to fix his servant with a dangerously piqued glower.

"It has been two months Alfrid." The low voice of gravel and smoke that was his master's discontentment with him kept Alfrid's head bowed, and he swallowed a stutter. The impious creature sneered at his servant's nervous silence.

"What kept you from fulfilling your master's commands for so long?"

"I-I-I needed time to find a minstrel that matched your wants. Most were men, and those that were women traveled with husbands." Was the excuse the man finally offered, daring to look up towards his master, "I had only found this girl a few days previous, and needed to make absolutely certain she was the troubadour needed. Many questions needed answers to meet your specific wants. I am sure you understand, my lord."

Alfrid prayed his explanation would be enough to please his master. He had not been idle these two months, and it really was a task to find the specifications set by his master. Nearly all of the female musicians were wedded, and if unmarried, they were a part of another, older, female occupation, and so finding one that was untouched was a task in it of itself. And even when he found the girl he had now, it was quite a daunting chore to find out such information, using both the tavern woman he bribed and himself in disguise to produce the truth. Luckily for him, the same girl had all the other qualities he was searching for, and luckier still, had yet another quality that would ensure his master's good faith in him once more, what little there was to begin with.

Done with hearing his servant's excuses and wanting to gaze at his latest prize, Smaug directed his attention to the blanket wrapped bundle that was laid before him.

It was a humble sight, dirt stained and smelled heavily of horse with just the faintest hint of blood. The scent from before though, that floral, copper tainted saccharinity that could not be explained away by the mere presence of lifeblood, clawed out from underneath the humble garb, and stole away the dragon's intense curiosity.

Needing no verbal command from his master to know his desire, Alfrid pulled the shabby cloth away, forcing a small figure of limbs and long hair to tumble out onto the bed of coins. Weaving his head lower so as to gain a better view of what had spilled out from the blanket Smaug felt a sneer of amusement curl over his teeth.

"So…this is to be my song bird?" He said with dark delight.

Before him, lying on her side with limbs pulled in close, was a woman.

Of her age, Smaug could only guess, but she appeared to be quite young by the way her unlined face, colored cheeks, and dark lashes spoke of very few experiences with winter. She was a clear portrayal of a rare beauty that was surprising form one of her species, from the slenderness of her long fingers that clutched themselves in frightful sleep to the willowed lengths of her legs. Her skin, what little was shown by her bare neck and hands, reinforced the freshness of her youth. Gleaming and pale, it acted as a dappled mirror to the coins that echoed their gold image against it. Colliding against this paleness was a halo of hair that was cast all about her, reaching to the length of her waist and framing her face in dark, tangled waves. It was a striking hue, like that of a red sun setting against the night, a fading combination of both illustrious gold and crimson. It reminded Smaug of his own dragon fire, a lethal beauty that called all to death with its licking colors, and he found himself oddly pleased by it.

Continuing his inspection with a look similar to what he wore when inspecting his hoard. The rest of her, her figure and shape was difficult to determine by the loose way her unappealing guise of men's clothing hung over her, but what he could make out was telling of a woman just blossoming into the potential of her full fleshed beauty. If she was indeed the pure thing he had asked for, if she was the indeed the lull that would bring slumber, then all of her had the potential to be a seamless part of his collection. She was just that becoming.

Alfrid, having watched his master the full time he was examining his latest prize, saw promise in the intensity of his master's study of the girl.

"She is most fair, as I have promised, yes? Most pleasing to your magnificent eye?"

This interruption of silence brought Smaug's attention back onto his servant, an obvious irritation that diminished the dragon's strange, studious mood.

"She is sufficient."

Rising fully to his impressive height, Smaug made to stand himself closer to the two humans, a large hiss of breath serving to catch the female's scent one last time before he ushered a command to Alfrid.

"Wake her."

Immediately bending down towards the girl to obey his master's order, Alfrid reached into his robes. Pulling out a skin of water, he opened it, and without hesitation poured all its contents onto the maiden's slumbering face.

"Get up girl. Time to meet your master." Spoke Alfrid harshly as the young woman's features began to twitch with that of oncoming wakefulness. The female suddenly sat up as the natural reflex to cough overtook her, sputtering out the water that had coked her into consciousness. Her eyes remained unopened, though it was easy to tell that already her senses were warning her of the strangeness of her situation, her hands scrambling to wipe the water from her view. Her actions caused her to groan with pain however, as she then tentatively felt the back of her head, which seemed to be wounded and aching.

"Get up!" Alfrid shouted as he then stood up, giving the woman a harsh shove with his foot that sent her back helplessly to the floor, her ordeal of waking taking a heavy toll on her feeble strength. With a seized might though, the woman opened her eyes, wanting to take in the sight of the villains that had stolen her sleep.

She was found not to be disappointed.

Almost by instinct, the first presence the girl was made aware of was that of Smaug's. Her gaze landed on him virtually the instant her sights were open, settling on the sole source of light to focus in the dark; Smaug's hollow, burning eyes. To her, they must have been like two lanterns that she hoped to have spare her from the dark, but as she continued to watch the way the twin lights flickered over her, she found the blackness of his narrowed irises watching her as she was them.

Slowly, shell pink lips opened to make a scream. But disappointingly, none was produced.

In fact, the young woman hardly breathed. Like he had seen so many times in his quarry when he bothered to stalk, Smaug noticed all the signs of a creature that was aware of its current position as prey, and its future's imminent discloser. Her heart, an insignificant sound that did not register beforehand, now pounded against her chest in a beautifully erratic rhythm. From that cascaded all other signs of the hunted. Her eyes were frozen in their watch of him, her scent changed from its natural comeliness into that of fear. And as cruelly amusing as this was to the dragon, he was unsatisfied by her awed horror, for she still did not scream. And that would not do.

He wanted to hear her scream, have the sound of her fear filled voice echo in his halls. If her scream was pretty enough for him, then surely, her song could be what might bring back the sleep he needed.

Suddenly, with the speed of the damned, the young woman's breath was restored to her as instinct finally took over, and she began to run. Alfrid tried to grab the as she drove past him, but his meek strength was nothing in comparison to her fear. In a few, mere seconds, she had already made it down from the hill of gold down into a rare valley of stone. She stumbled, her panic and waking fragility impeding her escape, but with desperation she continued on, clawing up the next wall of coins.

Only when she had made a noticeable distance did Smaug react.

With a stroke of his tail, he swept up the fleeing maiden, transforming her body from its animated panic to the state of a helpless ragdoll. She weighed so slight that with little effort, outside of controlling his force so as not to significantly harm the human, Smaug succeeded in tossing the female back to him.

Landing roughly before his scaled hand winded and dazed, the woman took a shuddering moment to regain her senses, all her panic from before manifesting itself into a desperate attempt just to stand up again. Alfrid, who had the wisdom not to move before to chase the girl, finally came forward to try once more at grabbing her, but halted as she found her voice at last in terrified protest.

"No! Please!" She shouted at Alfrid to stave him off her before turning to gaze towards the dragon before her "D-do not eat me, oh Great Ancient! I-I-I-I do not taste at all sweet!" She pleaded, the fearful shaking of her body impeding her ability to speak without a stutter "In fact, I'm probably very sour and very bony-"

"Be silent."

The violent tremor of Smaug's voice instantly stilled the woman, forcing her to collapse from both fright and terror as she clutched the ground in desperation.

It had only been a few moments, and yet already the human had managed to amuse Smaug. Not only did she immediately recognize the reverence he deserved as a higher being, but also dared to plead with him, tying to connive her way out of being eaten. Rather than just beg, she tried to reason with his appetite. But consuming her was far from his mind assuredly, for the moment. Still, the maiden did not need to know that, as the way she trembled at her thoughts for what possibilities awaited her flesh was most humorous to the dragon.

She was promising.

Snaking his head lower to where she shuddered, Smaug tilted his head to cast a closer, curious eye upon the young woman.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked, the resound of his voice sending a visible flood of shock through the young female. He could hear her swallowing her cries of fear, but she managed to keep a calm enough mind to answer him with a vigorous shake of her head. This answer disappointed him, but the opportunity to introduce himself was a rarity these days, one he would enjoy now.

"I am Smaug the Terrible. Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

The maiden's eyes quit in their submissive study of the ground to once more gaze upon the great beast before her, mouth agape in terrified bewilderment.

"S-Smaug? The Red Dragon?"

Smaug was pleased by the way she stuttered his name so fearfully, as if she was muttering a curse. But then the young woman began to shake her head viciously, as if she wished to fling out the very thought of him.

"Y-y-y-you can't…can't be real! Dragons, they don't – You're a story!"

With the last echo of her denial of the presence that was his magnificence, Smaug, with a strike of his tail, sent a flurry of coins and gems into the air, some harshly landing on maiden as she pressed herself to the unstable floor once more, biting her lip to keep down the whimpers that clawed at her throat in desperate fear. Alfrid, who had taken cover some time ago, bent his own head to avoid the golden projectiles that landed near him, smirking at the foolishness of the girl.

Though, this may mean that he might have to go out yet again for another maiden…

"Was that not real?" Smaug asked the young woman as a winged hand came to rest by her, his talons resting mere feet away from her quivering form.

"Is the harsh bite of my claws a story you doubt?" He asked, this time with a cruel sneer as he tightened his grip on the gold below his claws, shifting them through the metal and jewels as if it all was merely sand. He could see the maiden fought her all her urges to run, to cry, and to move away from him, already learning it was best just to tremble in his presence. Good, she seemed to be a fast learner.

"You would do well to acknowledge my existence, as not only are you in my presence, but at my mercy. What little of that exists."

The message of warning he gave the maiden perceptibly weighed heavily on her frame, she taking every word he spoke as sacred truth. A sly fascination played over the heartlessly twisted features of the dragon as he watched the young woman for any more signs of a humbled response, but hadn't the chance as he noticed Alfrid approaching.

"My most terrible master, may I present to you, your song bird!"

With a wave of unearned grandeur, he gestured to the young maiden, who sat still on the ground, who watched this transaction with a curiosity mixed horror. Wanting to claim his master's attention to _his_ job well done, Alfrid continued with an air of showmanship.

"She is fair, she is untouched, and I had the pleasure of hearing her play myself. And I must say, you will be very pleased with her skills for melody and dance. I have delivered all that I promised you, and," At this, Alfrid finally managed to procure a grip on the woman, grabbing a knot of her hair, forcing a pained hiss from her as he wretched her head back to fully face the dragon "here is the more. If you would take note of this woman's eyes…"

The young woman clutched her hands ferociously against the grip Alfrid had against her, about to fight him off, when Smaug twisted his head down in order to judge for himself what was so noteworthy about her. This looming nearness of his scaled features and the sudden close heat of his breath stilled the maiden as she stopped her struggles to observe him just as inquisitively, if far more fearfully.

Turning to slant the side of his reptilian face closer, Smaug caught the distinct feature his servant was so proud to claim as his find.

The woman had eyes of two dissimilar, opposing colors.

Yes. Two colors. A hue of sun bleached forget-me-not petals ringed with black surrounded the dark center of her right eye, and the left was decorated with the color of a green that budded only for the prisoners of winter, bringing life back into their branches. Two opposite, small marvels held in a mortal's terrified eyes that made a wondrous, ethereal sight. One that Smaug had not been witness to before in all his many years.

This maiden was promising, indeed.

"She is a rarity amongst humans, a one of a kind that most had thought to have died out centuries ago. And she belongs all to you master." Alfrid stated after the moment of silence he allowed her his speech to take effect, knowing the distinctive, though rare, signs of his master's pleasure.

A moment of arching silence passed, with only heartbeats and locked glances exchanged. But with a swift movement, Smaug brought himself back to his full, imposing height, eyes now gleaned with a burning indifference.

"Get her cleaned up and bring her back here ready to entertain. I desire to put the skills you praise her of owning to the test."

Alfrid humbly bowed, the young woman forced to slant her head forward as well with a stifled cry.

"As you wish Smaug the Splendorous."

* * *

Well, that was a bit of fun, wasn't it? I know this chapter was a bit long for just an introduction, but I wanted to take my time with it. I find first impressions of characters often to be the most fun in writing.

In this chapter I finally described what Raelynne looked like. I wanted to hold off on doing that for one, the sake of not making this story incredibly off putting by describing a character through their own eyes, and more importantly, to reflect that Raelynne is already a character in her own rights without having to resort to her appearance. However, her looks do factor into the story, especially her hair and eyes, so do pay attention, there will be a test. No, no there won't be. I hate tests.

Also, wasn't Smaug such a peach? He really knows how to make an impression on a girl. But just wait, in the next chapter we have even more fun, as we get Raelynne's perspective of her meeting with the dragon, and her discovery of just why she has been brought before a creature she thought was only a legend.

Special thanks to: **RadCatz, The Queen Dragon, DONOVAN94, vixen1991, Forgotten Shadow Dweller, and Teddy bear 007** for reviewing!


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